Deep

When I wake up in the morning
Shake the sawdust from my still dreaming mind
Stretch my legs in just the right way so I don’t fall into spasms
I try to remember my dreams

But there is nothing there besides a ink-black wall
Unfathomably high and incalculably long
I pound at it, chain-mailed fists flailing
But the wall stares back, implacable and eternal

So I fade into my day
A sepia figure in a charcoal world
Gallons of gritty coffee are the only change in shade
Until the night, until the deep ink night